Caricture of Intimacy
by Riley Leah Grace Hope
Summary: In a post-Voldemort world, Draco thinks there is only one way to redeem himself and Harry struggles with a mundane, busy lifestyle he doesn't want. Both may fall in love but they might just destroy each other in the process. HPDM slash – Rentboy!Draco
1. Dream

**Caricature of Intimacy**

By Riley Leah Grace Hope

**SUMMARY**: In a post-Voldemort world, Draco thinks there is only one way to redeem himself and Harry struggles with a mundane, busy lifestyle he doesn't want. Both may fall in love but they might just destroy each other in the process.  
**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. Obviously. God, if only I did.  
**WARNINGS**: Slash, prostitution and language.  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: This is my first attempt at fiction, meaning first attempt at H/D and slash. Please review? Thanks so much!

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**DREAM**

_All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream._

_-Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

Pale moonlight shone over the dew-drenched ground as a hooded figure hurried through a homey road. The person's eyes were cast down, ignoring the softly swaying landscape around him. In the darkness, everything is enhanced. Including the prickly feeling of threat and fear that rises on the back of your neck.

The paved road was full of pretty, but rather bland-looking homes all made of varying shades of brick and stone. He slowed down as he reached one near the end of the cul-de-sac, made of red bricks and white shutters with a puffing chimney releasing lazily drifting clouds of gray. His pale features wrinkled in disgust, however, as his eyes scanned the green grass, falling on a garden of almost-impossibly perfect lilies and petunias. They shimmered easily in the moonlight, almost as if lit by magic.

He reached the door and pressed his knuckles against the doorframe, feeling the cold wood against his skin. Nausea overcame him and he paused, nervousness and need fighting for control. He took a deep breath and knocked.

The door opened almost instantly by a red-haired woman whose look of disgust was evident on her pretty features. "Malfoy," she snarled. "Harry's expecting you." The man merely gave her a look of irritation and waited for her to allow him to pass.

"He's in the drawing room," she added, giving him a look of strong distrust and then moved out of the way, making a face as he came in, pulling off his hood slowly, allowing the woman to lead him into a cozy room, lit by a warm fire in the brick fireplace. The only furniture in the room were two armchairs placed directly across from one another. One of the chairs was already occupied, by a dark-haired man whose features slid in and out of the shadows in time with the flickering fire. He stood upon seeing his guest.

"Malfoy." The suspicion in his voice was evident and his face had turned hard. Draco duly noted he did not offer his hand to shake in greeting and did not offer his.

"Potter." He paused, glancing down at the seat nearest him, as if wondering whether he should sit.

"What do you want?" The man demanded, sitting down again, looking agitated. Draco gave him a twisted smile and toyed with the button of his robes before taking a seat in the chair across from him.

Draco glanced back at the woman, who was still standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, a bitter expression on her face and replied, "Not until your _girlfriend_ leaves."

"Whatever you're going to say in front of me, you can say in front of her."

The woman seemed momentarily surprised, and then pleased. She glanced at Draco, who scowled visibly. "She's weak. She doesn't need to hear these things," He said harshly.

"She's stronger then you'll ever be."

"No, Harry, it's okay. This is your thing, helping people," the woman interrupted. "I don't want to spend any more time with Malfoy then I have to anyway." She smiled softly at him and left, closing the door behind her. Draco's scowl furthered at her words.

Harry watched the door for a moment, his eyebrows raised, but then he turned to Draco and gave him a look that clearly read, 'Well?'

"I expect you're wondering why I'm here," Draco said coolly. Harry took out his wand and Draco flinched but Harry only conjured two sparkling glasses of caramel liquid. One of them lazily floated toward Draco who took it silently.

"Not really," Harry replied, sipping his drink calmly.

"No?"

"No," Harry confirmed. He settled back in his chair easily, crossing his legs and giving Draco a serene smile. He seemed to enjoy this position of power.

"You're not wondering?"

"I already know," Harry took another sip and watched Draco calmly. "You want me to rally for you at the Ministry. Get your wand back, unfreeze your vault, release your father from Azkaban..."

Draco paused. "That was the plan, yes."

"And what, exactly, makes you think I'd want to do those things? What have you done- or ever will do- for me?"

Draco swallowed. It was true, he had nothing. "Well, I could give you money, if you unfreeze my vault."

"I don't want your money, Malfoy."

"Of course you don't," Draco sneered, before he could stop himself. "You're Harry Potter. I expect you have a nice stash of Thank-You-For-Saving-Us galleons. A nice consolation prize for your parents and all your loved ones; Sirius Black, the house elf we kicked out, that stupid werewolf you loved so much, all those Muggles--"

Before he knew what was happening, blood was flowing freely down the front of his robes and a harsh pain was throbbing on his face. Draco swore loudly. Harry had hit him.

"You broke my nose!"

Harry examined him. "No, I didn't," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. "It's just a little bloody." He retraced his steps and sat back down, watching Draco carefully. Draco didn't reply.

"If you only came here to make stupid comments--"

"I didn't."

Harry didn't say anything and merely took another long sip. Draco swore again and angrily wiped at his dripping face. Red blood seeped into his sleeve. Harry made an irritated sound and picked up his wand, giving it a small flick and the flow from Draco's nose instantly stopped, although dried blood still caked on his chin and fingers.

"I could--" Draco's voice cracked. He licked his lips, wincing at the metallic tang of his own blood and tried again. "I could," He paused, unsure of how to continue. "Do _things_."

"Do things?" Harry looked confused.

"Yes. Things. In exchange. I'll do anything. Even, even, well, even well sex, if that's what you fancy." Draco flushed violently and lowered his head.

Harry, who had been taking another sip of his drink, choked and coughed. "Wh-_what_?" He began to turn red as well and Draco felt his face heat up even more.

"You don't understand!" He added quickly, desperately. "I have nothing. _We_ have nothing. I'd do anything to help my family. We have no money, no magic, no power, no prestige. I could never get a job, not with my name, and my mother has never worked a day in her life, she doesn't understand."

Harry was still spluttering and red and Draco's cheeks were still warm so he stood up quickly, abruptly, and said, "Never mind. I can see you can't help me."

"Malfoy, I-" Harry started but Draco had opened the door again and walked out, almost barging into the red-headed, freckly woman who shot a nasty look at him.

"Are you leaving?" She asked eagerly. Then made a face. "Is that _blood_?"

Draco ignored her and pulled open the front door, shutting it firmly behind him. The moon was bright enough to bathe everything in an eerie glow, leaving no need for streetlamps and he pulled up his hood once more, hiding his pale features; and hurried along the street before slipping into a dark alcove and disappearing from view entirely.

//

"What did he want?" Ginny asked quietly, shifting so that she could look at Harry. He glanced into her eyes and frowned. They had been laying contently, her head on his chest and he stroking her hair, silently, easily. He didn't really want to talk.

"Oh, you know, a wand, his father out of Azkaban, his money..." Harry closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of Ginny's head.

"And he expected you to just hand it to him? After all he's done to you?" Ginny said incredulously.

"I'm already trying to get his father out of prison and to convince the Ministry to let him have a wand, remember," Harry said softly. "The Ministry- and I- just have our hands really full right now."

"But, still, to just come here and demand it."

"He offered something." Harry was still in a state of surprise over the whole idea. Anybody offering sex to him was surprising, but it being Malfoy, who was a _boy_, was even more shocking.

_Like you can talk,_ Harry thought irritably. _Your dreams, remember?_

"What? Money?"

Harry paused, debating. Ginny would probably be horrified by the whole thing. "Yes, money. Among other things."

"What else could he offer? To stop being a git?" Harry smiled at the drowsy sound of her voice and didn't bother replying, instead listening to the even sound of her breathing.

He turned his head and watched the moon nearly block out the stars with its brightness and waited patiently for Ginny to fall asleep before finally allowing tiredness to overtake him.

//

The house was unappealing. It had a mangled, shingled roof and darkened, broken brick walls. A gnarled, dead tree loomed over one window, where a silhouette of a sitting figure stood overlooking the lawn of crinkled leaves and carelessly tossed litter.

"Draco?"

Draco opened the door and found his mother sitting stiffly in a chair facing a small, grimy window; dirty, ragged yellow curtains hung haphazardly from them.

"Did you visit Potter?" She asked, hearing his footsteps.

"Yes." He walked over to the chair and quickly kissed Narcissa's cheek. He then straightened up and walked over to the window where he began opening the curtains. Sunlight had begun to replace moonlight.

"And?"

"He is as full of himself as ever."

"I do hope you controlled your temper, Draco. We cannot afford to be ill-mannered in these times."

Draco ignored this comment and said, "I offered myself to him."

"You what?"

"I offered myself to him," he repeated dully, fingers still holding onto the frayed, yellow fabric.

"But why? He has a girlfriend, if the newspapers are correct. He does not need a mistress. And a male one, at that, who has been tried for following the Dark Lord."

Draco gripped the curtains more tightly, his knuckles turning white. "I would not be his mistress," he said stiffly. He turned and faced Narcissa once more. "I'm going out."

She watched him for a moment, not answering, then said carefully, "Be back soon. You need sleep."

He ignored her and walked to the door, slamming it behind him. He never noticed the pained, sad look that crossed his mother's face but he did hear softly whispered words that fell from his mother's lips like raindrops.

"Don't hurt yourself."

Draco fingered the doorknob with a small sigh.

"Too late."

//

Raindrops pitter-pattered against the enchanted windowpane of Mr. Weasley's office.

"I assure you, Harry. The Malfoys will be back to normal before long. Draco should be receiving his wand in no less than a year and Lucius should be released shortly after that." Mr. Weasley gave him a tired smile and began shuffling papers.

"And their vault?" Harry asked.

"Unfrozen in a short period of time." Mr. Weasley paused, and then added, "Harry, you do realize people will begin to wonder why exactly you want to help the Malfoys so bad and, frankly, I'm curious as well. You weren't exactly fond of them during your schooling."

"They were bullied by Voldemort. And if it wasn't for Narcissa's lie, I'd probably dead right now." Harry ignored the flinch Mr. Weasley gave.

"I still think you should talk to Kingsley. He is the Minister, after all," Mr. Weasley said. He began shuffling through his papers once more. "Now if only I could find that file…"

"Kingsley is busy," Harry replied. "I really don't want to bother him."

"That's understandable but, Harry, we can only do so much. The Malfoy name will still be disgraced. They won't have the same prestige or power they used to have."

"I know that," Harry said petulantly. "I don't think they deserve all that power or prestige, they just abused it. But--"

"Dad, where's the file on the case for Gregory Goyle?" Percy's voice suddenly rang around the office. Harry turned to see a disgruntled red-haired man adjusting his glasses haughtily. "Harry," Percy added, giving Harry a curt nod. His lips quirked up in a small smile though, before a serious look replaced his features once more.

"I know it's here somewhere..." Mr. Weasley said, pulling out a drawer.

"Honestly Dad," Percy muttered. _"Accio file."_

Harry watched the rain slide down the windowpane and sighed.


	2. Hell

**Caricature of Intimacy**

By Riley Leah Grace Hope

**SUMMARY**: In a post-Voldemort world, Draco thinks there is only one way to redeem himself and Harry struggles with a mundane, busy lifestyle he doesn't want. Both may fall in love but they might just destroy each other in the process.  
**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. Obviously. God, if only I did.  
**WARNINGS**: Slash, prostitution and language.  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: I changed the title. The old one just wasn't working for me. Formerly 'Little Sins Won't Stay Little.' Thank you for reviewing, adding me to your favorites or adding to story alert. Means tons to me. Please review? _Gracias_.

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

**HELL**

_What fresh hell is this?_

_-Dorothy Parker_

* * *

Water ran down in thick streams along the street, pooling into small lakes in the gutters. The sky was cast a dark, depressing gray and flashed brilliantly with lightning. Any noises were drowned out by roaring claps of thunder.

It was a gloomy morning.

Draco Malfoy stood underneath an awning on one side of the street, watching the rain splatter noisily against the pavement. The road was mostly empty; the rain had driven nearly everyone inside.

He closed his eyes against the harsh wind, wincing at the slight tenderness on his cheek, and shivered. If it wasn't for the bruises blossoming brilliantly on his arms and cheek, blue and black, or the sharp pains he felt every time he moved, he could've convinced himself it had all been a horrible, horrible dream.

Less than an hour ago a man had been screaming in Draco's ear, fingers wrapping themselves tightly around his forearm, leaving fingerprint-shaped marks of dark blue that would later fade to a sickening yellow, joining the layers of color on his body, "Oh, yes, oh, fuck yes!"

Green, black, blue, yellow, red, pink and somewhere under it all a skin so pale you could call it white. He was a rainbow of injury.

"Say my name, say my name you little whore."

"John, no, fuck, Gabriel-"

"Edward, you stupid, little..."

There had been a thud and Draco felt tears sting his eyes. Harry's blow had left no mark except the blood on his robes but this one--

This one had left a mark. And it wasn't just physical.

He had begun frequenting the seedier side of Muggle London shortly after his father had been imprisoned. He had still been struggling with overlapping feelings of guilt, disgust, anger and sadness. How could he redeem himself? Not to the Wizarding world, of to which there was very little hope, he was a Malfoy, after all, despised by most and hated by the rest for his affliction with the war, but to himself. And somehow his twisted mind put together a plan.

So he stood, shivering, on dirty, dark street corners under flickering, neon lights, dodging Muggle police and biting back nasty retorts to filthy yells.

"Interesting tattoo, you got there, baby." A leering smile.

Draco would rub his bare arms, the wind biting his skin. "Thanks."

"How much?"

"Depends."

The money wasn't important. It was the redemption.

He got a crash course in Muggle drugs, cheap drinks and tacky, sequined costumes. He briefly worked at a strip club, where he learned how to suck better and smear glitter across his cheekbones and eyelids.

He mostly got picked up by men although occasionally a woman would come along. He actually preferred men, he felt dirtier when he finished and that was the goal. Eventually, he got his first taste of violence; overzealous men going too hard, angry buyers unsatisfied or too cheap to pay; tasting the sharp tang of blood in his mouth and watching dark bruises flourish on his pale skin.

Then, broken, battered, destroyed, he would smile.

//

Harry wasn't surprised to find himself inside a darkened room.

He also wasn't surprised to find himself sitting on a comfortable armchair and to feel a person sitting before him on the floor. This being was idly tracing their fingertips along Harry's calves as they pressed light kisses to his knees.

And lastly, he wasn't surprised he was unclothed.

"Ginny?" He asked softly, knowing this person wasn't her.

The person didn't respond, instead crawling up and straddling his lap. He grasped Harry's hair and kissed him hard, his tongue running along Harry's lower lip. Harry ran his hands up the person's chest and realized with a familiar sinking feeling it was a man.

The man began kissing Harry's jaw softly, his breath hot against Harry's skin.

"Harry," The man murmured and Harry froze. He knew that voice.

Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy seemed to sense Harry's discomfort because he chose that moment to press his heated hands against Harry's tensed abdomen. "Shh," he murmured, pressing down slightly and leaning back. Harry could feel that Draco was as exposed as he was, and just as aroused.

He leaned forward for another kiss, his tongue exploring Harry's mouth, his splayed fingers tapping an unknown beat against Harry's skin and they tickled the very edges of his--

Harry awoke. His heart thudded erratically in his chest and he gasped for breath. He felt Ginny stir next to him and winced at the almost painful, tight feeling in his pajama bottoms.

It had been a nightmare. A recurring nightmare, although it had never specifically featured anyone before. It had always been anonymous men, which was bad enough. He didn't need to be attracted to any males in real life. Especially not Draco Malfoy, which disgusted him a little bit. Although he felt a slightly mocking pity for the man, he didn't like him.

It was easy enough to avert his eyes when an attractive man walked by or to stare at Ginny for hours, trying to force himself to be attracted. But it wouldn't help to find himself dreaming dirty dreams about real people, who he could very easily run into. Ones that had…

Harry swallowed thickly. _Ones that had offered sex._

And it wasn't like he was used to this yet. This, fantasizing, about guys. The dreams had just suddenly started and suddenly he was remembering these nightmares as he was shaking hands with striking wizards or accidentally brushing against handsome Muggles. This would be accompanied by an embarrassing ordeal underneath his trousers.

It was hell and Harry hated himself for it. He wasn't a bigot, he had nothing against gays, but he just _simply wasn't one_.

"Everything okay?" Ginny murmured, her fingers lightly brushing against Harry's side. Harry turned and caught them, pressing the tips to his hip. The gentle motions were sweet but they didn't bring an arousal flaring to his gut.

"Not really, but it's nothing. A nightmare," he said quietly.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny began, yawning. Harry turned and caught her open lips with his tongue. She kissed back feverishly and they rolled around, mouths glued together, until Harry ended up on top of her. Ginny's fiery-red hair splayed around her head like a halo and in the dim lighting darkened considerably to a murky brown.

"Ginny," he mumbled, wanting it so, so bad. It didn't come. He rolled off her, ignoring the crestfallen look in her eyes and the way she curled away from him as he threw an arm across his forehead and closed his eyes.

"Sorry," he said aloud, waiting patiently for a reply that never came and listened to the noisy sounds of tense silence.

//

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a pink glow over blue skies and white clouds.

"Mother, I was owled today," Draco Malfoy turned away from the familiar window and cast his mother a small smile. Narcissa could hardly contain her surprised joy. For the first time in a long time, it looked as if Draco had gotten a full night's sleep.

"And?" She asked softly, not wanting to show premature rapture.

"It seems Harry Potter managed to get a trial for Father to perhaps be released from Azkaban early."

Her son's voice betrayed no emotion. Once so easy to read, her spoilt, easily jealous pride and joy was now a hardened, cynical man whose time in the war, brief stint in Azkaban and dabbles in prostitution had changed him greatly. He hadn't even yet reached twenty and he already acted with the air of an old man.

"Really now? I suppose I'll have to send him thank you letter," Narcissa mused, lowering her eyelids. She was once again sitting in her chair facing the window and her briefly relaxed fingers resting in her lap tightened into rigid fists as she heard her son's next words.

"I can think of other ways to thank him." A familiar, wry smile graced his aristocrat features.

"Don't Draco."

"Why not? You can't deny he wants it--"

"How can I know if he wants it? I haven't seen him."

"He does. I know, I can tell. And wouldn't that be an amazing news story? A great gossip for all the magazines? _Ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy Fucking the Great and Noble _Harry_ Potter_." Narcissa flinched at the curse that dropped so easily from her son's lips. She felt a sense of relief at the irritated way he said the Potter boy's name, however. It sounded jealous, mocking and mean.

She had been beginning to worry he might've wanted it too.

"Sex doesn't solve all your problems, Draco."

Draco didn't answer immediately, instead turning his back once more on Narcissa, facing the window, his hands clasped together. "Obviously not," he murmured. "But it helps. Human pleasure so easily sways human decisions."

"You say that like you're not human."

Draco glanced back at her, his eyes glittering with something, perhaps even amusement. And, for a moment, they were no longer mother and son, where invisible barriers held back the nastier details of sexual nature. Where one watched over the other with a tenderly affection as the other made mistakes and the other gave a pride to the one.

He thinks he's an adult, when he's really not. Narcissa's thoughts betrayed her desperate want to believe in Draco. If he didn't think he was an adult he wouldn't have started selling himself. He would've been too scared.

This thought saddened her short-lived happiness and fear as did his next words.

"Perhaps I'm not."

//

The letter wasn't like most of Harry's fan mail. It wasn't from some infatuated witch or grateful house-elf. The words were scrawled in a neat, elegant handwriting that looked too perfect to have been handwritten. It had almost certainly been dictated by smooth words to a magical quill.

_Potter,_

_I guess I could just thank you but that's no fun. Instead, I can give you something. It's something you want, deep down inside, even if you don't know it yet. I could see it flashing in your eyes when I offered it before. I can sense it. I've become rather good at sensing what a person wants. Surely you aren't thick enough to not know what I am talking about now._

_Love is sickening. Tender embraces, sweet caresses and nights spent in each other's arms. Whatever you have with the freckled girl you seem to care about so much would be nothing compared to a night with me. I could make you scream an enemy's name in ecstasy (which, coincidentally, happens to be me) and do things you never thought you'd do before._

_I could wrap my lips around your cock and slide my tongue across your tip--_

And it was there Harry abruptly stopped reading, his face flushed in a scarlet embarrassment as he quickly folded the paper several times and shoved it underneath several heavy books. But he still managed to catch a short glance at the picturesque signature scrawled at the very bottom, almost seeming to smirk at him in its simple elegance and closing message.

_Yours,_

_Draco Malfoy._


End file.
